


captain james t. kirk's no-good-very-bad day

by nefelokokkygia



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Cheeseburgers, Clothing Kink, F/M, Sass, Spoilers, electropop space playlists, post-into darkness, real water showers, sass out the ass, seriously this fic has just about everything, trademarked grins, vegetarian-carnivore face-offs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefelokokkygia/pseuds/nefelokokkygia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Should I just start wearing a tag that says 'I hacked and beat the <i>Kobayashi Maru</i>, please do not be surprised when I do anything even remotely clever'? Because I'm starting to feel like I need one.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> there are so many other things i should be writing but i'm not
> 
> this goes from very silly to very existentially porny faster than scotty can say 'ample nacelles' although the porn is contained to the second chapter

Jim Kirk heaves a sigh of relief when Alpha shift is over. 

_Finally_ , he thinks, remembering how he'd fallen asleep in the chair, legs draped over the side, only to be awoken by the alarms because he'd unknowingly knocked the ship into red alert. The unspeakable embarrassment of explaining to the crew over the comms exactly why the ship was not actually in danger wasn't the worst thing he's ever been through, but Scotty's livid comm about being woken up on his day off for a 'pure dead bullshit false alarm' and some indecipherable Orion Prime from Galia in the background had been the icing on the damn cake.

He feels terrible but godammit diplomatic excursions are so _boring_ , he couldn't help taking a nap in the chair, honest. Five-year missions are for exploring uncharted space and encountering new alien species and throwing wicked holodeck nightclub raves, not orbiting boring Federation planets and escorting Ambassadors to conferences, even if the current guest of honor is Spock's father.

"Chekov, conn," Jim says on his way out, not really giving a shit who has the bridge because they're in fucking orbit for the next four days and really, the ship could run herself at this point.

"I'm gonna synthesize myself like, six cheeseburgers, and then pass out in a food coma in my quarters," Kirk states, stepping into the turbolift. "Unless the ship is getting blown up I don't really care what happens or what you guys do, and I certainly don't want to hear about it."

He doesn't even hit the button for the mess hall deck before Chekov and Sulu's _boldly going nowhere_ minimal techno electro-pop playlist starts pumping through the bridge speakers. 

 

 

"Hey, Bones."

"What?"

"Cheeseburgers."

"What about them?"

"Motherfucking _cheeseburgers_ , man."

"If you don't shut up I'm gonna shove the disgusting thing down your throat and laugh when you can't self-Heimlich your way out of choking to death."

"Hippocrates would be very disappointed in you, you know. He'd roll in his grave so much that he'd roll right out of it and into space so he could roll over _you_ while you're busy ignoring your oath."

Leonard McCoy doesn't even grace that with a response, shoving a forkful of his gloriously vegetarian salad into his mouth to keep himself from saying something he'll regret.

“How can you hate cheeseburgers, Bones?” Kirk asks, the offending monstrosity oozing grease and melted cheese, as if it were mocking the good doctor. “You don't know what you're missing; it has ketchup and onions and pickles, it's the best thing to have come out of the United States since like, me. And you, I guess.”

“I know exactly what I'm missing and I'm ecstatic to be missing it,” McCoy drawls, returning a disgruntled glare at the burger. “I thought I programmed a greasebomb quota on your diet card anyway.”

“Does no one remember that I hacked and beat the fucking _Kobayashi Maru_?” Jim swears, throwing his hands up. “Booting out your dietary restrictions are a cakewalk, which by the way, thank you for reminding me, now I know what I want for dessert.”

“Un-fucking-believeable.”

Jim only smiles, polishing off the last of his cheeseburger before slinking off toward the dessert synthesizers.

When he returns, Bones throws a handful of lettuce on his triple-chocolate meltdown, unfazed when his Captain gives him his best possible impression of a tribble that just got launched into warp.

“Hey, Jim.”

“What the actual hell, Bones?”

“Motherfucking _salad_.”

 

 

Jim spends the next three hours in the gym, burning away his dinner (he scowled through the lettuce because he was James Tiberius Fucking Kirk and not even Bones' pansy leaves could keep him from the only thing to possibly rival sex). On the other side of the facility Spock is instructing Nyota in _suus mahna_ , and Jim gags low in his throat because _ugh_ they're being so cute together, and cute is something that should never be used to describe anything that involves Vulcans. 

“Oy, Captain!”

Kirk turns his head, seeing Scotty running towards him, and he really hopes he's not in for another verbal beating because he's already been embarrassed enough today.

“Scotty, for the love of God, we're not on duty and I do have a first name.”

“Sorry Jim,” the Scot replies, “but speaking of that, I actually wanted to apologize for earlier; I was bein' a right snot to you about the alarm an' I shouldn't've been so unprofessional, especially over the comm on the bridge.” The man looks incredibly sheepish for someone who beat the shit out of a group of vicious Klingons while drunker than sin only a few months before.

“It's all good Scotty,” the Captain responds with his signature Jimmy T. and the Baby Blues™ smile. “It wasn't exactly very professional of me to fall asleep on shift and give the entire crew a heart attack with my leg, either.”

“We're in orbit for the next few days and everyone's slower than molasses, they deserved the pick-'em-up.”

“Bones didn't really agree with me on that today at dinner, but I'm pretty sure he was just mad because I was eating a cheeseburger and he thought his super-special-awesome food restrictions were actually going to work,” Kirk says with a grin; the look on the doctor's face was totally worth the lettuce.

“You reprogrammed your entire diet card?” Scotty asks, surprised, and Jim gives him a look of betrayal.

“Should I just start wearing a tag that says 'I hacked and beat the _Kobayashi Maru_ , please do not be surprised when I do anything even remotely clever'? Because I'm starting to feel like I need one.”

“Aye, you might have a point.”

 

 

Carol Marcus keys in the code for the Captain's quarters, entering the empty living space as quietly as she'd come. They'd taken to alternating between each others' quarters early on, though most of their time is spent here because honestly, Kirk's rooms are the swankiest shit on the whole ship and no way is she going to pass them up.

She'd gotten off her shift early after Scotty dismissed her, saying that the junior officers could take over the routine weapons inspections because they're in orbit and what the hell else are all of them going to do for the next four days? (“Might as well let them earn their nacelles now and not hundreds of light-years away in an emergency,” he'd said.)

So here she is, alone in Kirk's quarters with a few hours to spare before he gets back from winding down with the other bridge officers. She didn't see him at the mess hall but she's not his mom, and he can do what he wants.

Right now Carol has his rooms all to herself and dammit, she is going to milk it for all it's worth.

The blonde takes an amazing shower in real-live water, less efficient than a sonic but so much better because it's water on a fucking starship and that's command-level ostentatiousness right there. (She feels exceedingly and almost obnoxiously privileged because most of the crew don't get anywhere near this kind of luxury but she also can't because she's dating James Tiberius Kirk and enjoying it and did she mention _really-for-real water showers_???)

His enormously fluffy towels are also a huge plus, big and soft and actually kind of cheesy because they're the same shade of gold as his uniform (she half-expected them to have the stripes the first time he walked out of the shower with one around his waist and she had just stared in disbelief/awe and what was she supposed to be doing right now?)

Carol folds the towel neatly over the glass door (she may act like a giddy schoolgirl when she's alone but she most certainly does have manners), stepping out into the main room.

Unlike Uhura who has for all intents and purposes moved into Spock's quarters altogether, the blonde still keeps most of her things in her own room, if only because she prefers the cleanliness and order that comes with not sharing a living space with Jim Kirk. 

(If she were asked to describe his three worst qualities, she would say: brash arrogance, refusal to pay even an atom of attention to authority, and an uncanny ability to haphazardly toss things into spaces she didn't think the ship had until he has to tear the room apart looking for them.)

She only has a few sets of pyjamas here, and since Jim prefers his space in the rooms to be just as cold as the space outside the _Enterprise_ , everything she has here is flannel and warm and-

-in the laundry chute. _Fuuuuuck_.

She could slip her uniform back on and run back to her quarters for something fresh; she still has an hour or two before the Captain turns in for the night. But that would mean having to put clothes on that aren't pyjamas and she's just not feeling that.

A glimmer of gold catches her eye, and Carol Marcus smiles.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a lot of feelings about gaila if you try and tell me she's dead i will turn into a rocket and fly into your face screaming no
> 
> kirk's cheeseburger with all its toppings is my standard fare at five guys, 10/10 would eat forever
> 
> my bones is a vegetarian i literally do not care if someone doesn't like this
> 
> if you caught the little kuriboh reference well done; also the _the trouble with tribbles_ reference man i am on a roll
> 
> someone please get kirk a nametag he gets really upset when you forget he hacked the space sims
> 
> carol is a bamf and she can fangirl over the shower and the towels and jimmy t if she pleases ok thank
> 
> from here it's porn if that's not your thing get out while you still can


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i split the porn off a second chapter in case anyone wanted to come for the funnies and bypass the porn since it's not absolutely necessary to read it

Jim punches in the code for his quarters, feeling refreshed from the sonics and ready to fall into bed face-first and butt-naked.

Until the door slides open and he sees the lights dimmed near darkness, Carol curled cat-like on his bed. The dim glow of a PADD lights up her face, mouth pressed to her knuckles and dammit she's really fucking cute when she's asleep; he really doesn't want to wake her up so he tiptoes towards the bed, slipping off his shoes and socks and sitting gently on the side of the bed. He slips the PADD from her fingers, a gigantic paper on weapons tech flickering off the screen and honestly her intelligence has always been her best quality, how he wishes he could do half the amazing stuff she does because she's _awesome_. Jim runs a hand through her hair and that's when he notices—

ohhohhhhohhhhHHHHHH SHIT she's got his command gold on had she been planning this how did she figure out he's been wanting her to wear it in bed for like three months did gaila tell her she knows all his secrets was it bones sometimes they talk about kinky shit oh man just wow hot a—

“Jim?”

“What?”

“You're staring.”

“Oh shit, sorry, that was probably really weird,” he apologizes, looking incredibly sheepish and maybe blushing and he's so adorable Carol wants to make out with him and punch him in the face at the same time.

The blonde pulls him down, fingers clawed into his black regulation undershirt, his mouth needy and wanting against her own. She knows he'd been in the gym because not even the sonics can dissipate the soothing, fever-bright heat of his body, stretched long and lithe above her in the chill of his quarters. Her nails prickle against his skin, sliding up his sides and through the dusting of hair on his chest that she loves, and the groan he lessens against her neck is like stars behind her eyes, melting through the ship and settling on her tongue.

Kirk rocks his hips into hers, the fabric of his pants rough against her bare skin and it makes her need; the both of them are so tactile and his hands slide over the slippery fabric of his uniform shirt on her, pulling it between his fingers as she kisses down his jaw. His cheek is scruffy and unshaven, and Carol drags sparks down his skin, need dripping hot between her legs into pinpoints that curl beneath her toes.

Jim sits back, pulling her into his lap, hands carding lightning-quick through her hair as she laughs. In the dim light his gold is radiant against her skin, the captain's stripes metallic and shimmering, and there is no better way he could want her when she pulls his face against her chest, hugging him with her whole body.

His hands splay over her back, tracing the points of her shoulder blades and the curve of her spine, the hard muscles of her back that betray the fierceness and power she holds inside. She is so much more than her father's cunning and Jim will pour the words down her throat until his next dying day, strength enough to give back to her because she has already given such greatness to him.

Jim grazes a sharp canine over her nipple, the skin taught beneath the smooth fabric and she whimpers, tangling her fingers in his hair and pushing him closer. he nips and sucks through the fabric and the sounds she makes are enough to bring him to his knees if he weren't already there. Carol reaches between them to tug the uniform shirt off but he grabs her hands, and she tilts her head, confused.

“Leave it on,” he breathes, voice raw and undone in his throat. “I've wanted to see you wear it for months.”

“Does this mean you get to call me Captain?” Her smile is positively lecherous as her fingers trace the button of his pants, sliding teasingly down.

“If you keep doing that you can call me whatever the hell you want,” Kirk groans, his nose buried in her shoulder as she undoes the clasp, his hips bucking into her touch as he leans up to her, palms yanking her hips down to meet his own.

Carol shoves him roughly to the pillows, tugging at his shirt and Jim is all-too-eager to remove it, tossing it to the floor as she presses her lips to his neck, licking a hot, wet trail down his collarbone and dragging her nails through the hair on his chest, feeling the roughness under her fingers and needing more. She grinds down onto him, the fabric of his pants warm and coarse as it slides against her, sparking lightning low in her belly as she shoves them down impatiently. Jim yanks them and his underwear off in one mess of fabric, throwing it all over his shoulder as Carol kisses him for what might be the hundredth time, all tongue and teeth and when she lowers herself onto him it's almost enough to kill him again.

He yanks her hips down, fingers tangled in the slick gold of his uniform and she's so fucking beautiful it _hurts_ ; it's pleasure-pain and everything and nothing and all things in-between, all that she can give and more than he can take. Her body is hot and wet and her kisses are fire burning down his throat, he can't stop touching his shirt and her skin and both at the same time and the gold is so much more than command; it's power and authority and everything he doesn't trust but has to be but she has taken it from him and he never knew how beautiful letting it go could be.

Carol moves long and hard above him, fingers clawing through his wild hair and teeth leaving marks in his lips and when she pulls away he looks so fucking _wrecked_ , like she's broken him, ruined him and now she can rebuild him; she can create and destroy and now Kirk is hers, liquid beneath her hands like the gold that shimmers down her back and pools at her hips. His cries are pinpoint in her ears, like the countdown sequence of a bomb and she's just waiting for him to go off, swallowing his moans in her throat and grazing his neck with her teeth.

She's close, so fucking close and Carol can feel it like her pulse, ticking between her legs and she pulls at his hand, a desperate gasp wrenched from her throat when his fingers go to work on her clit. It doesn't take much to send her over the edge, not when Captain James Tiberius Kirk is flushed and feral beneath her, bottom lip bit raw and breath ragged in his throat, his blue eyes fever-bright and glittering in the near-darkness.

Carol yanks his wrist, bringing his fingers to her lips and she tastes herself, tangy and warm on his skin, sliding his hand across the gold over her breasts and that's all Kirk needs, wide-eyed and wrecked and the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. His fingers claw into the sheets, knuckles white and skin taut, his other hand tangled in his uniform shirt, cries ripped raw from his throat and more stars behind his eyes than any he could ever see through the window beside him. He pulls Carol to his chest, hugging her close as he comes down and she trails her nails through his hair, soothing, comforting.

She presses her lips to his, gentle and calm, and thinks, _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope jim and carol get together in the rebootverse i want to actually see their relationship form and how it progresses in whatever way it will unlike in tos !!!! i say as i paddle through the fandom in my very wee ship
> 
> i don't know why i wrote this entire thing goodbye


End file.
